


seni merendahkan diri

by lonalawa (fumate)



Category: Political RPF - Indonesia 20th c.
Genre: M/M, Surreal, Vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fumate/pseuds/lonalawa
Summary: This is a work of fiction made solely for fun and personal satisfaction. No profit was gained and will be. As always, don't ciduk me.a/n: written when im sleepy as fuck so yes its questionable and horribleThanks for reading!





	seni merendahkan diri

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction made solely for fun and personal satisfaction. No profit was gained and will be. As always, don't ciduk me.
> 
>  **a/n** : written when im sleepy as fuck so yes its questionable and horrible
> 
> Thanks for reading!

 

 

Hatta loved the Quiet Sea as much as he loved the ghost within. 

He stood, daring, aware of how the waves crash so harshly below him and still he raised his chin. He stood, watching; the birds flying away, horizon that started to fade, blue sky against blue sea. A blue world. Intentional of waking the nausea in his stomach. 

Soekarno smiling, a ghost that never goes away.

_Hatta, you still **love** us, right? _

He didn't need to turn around. He could feel it; the warm presence of Soekarno, his thin smile, a hand reaching out without actually trying to touch.

 

_This is where we met._

 

The Quiet Sea was a place where no law apply, a space where reality got bent and distorted to a strange peculiar existence that felt familiar and unreal at the same time. Time couldn't touch it. Sound became a small entity in it. The Quiet Sea was preserved to Hatta and Hatta only.

Only to him. 

...

Right.

Hatta and Soekarno only. 

It was beautiful. Stunning. More gorgeous than any place could ever hope to be, and the lack of visitors helped to conserve its charm. People avoided the place. Even locals, whose homes were built just two miles from here. They said it was terrifying; he thought this is the most exhilarating thing. 

 

_This is where I_   _lost him._  

 

There was a rumour—of someone, of something, who was or never was a fine young man. Atrractive. Alluring. Well-built, well-mannered, and well-educated, he was the man of every dreams. Only he wasn't. He might be a liar, a spirit, a ghost, a something who rules the sea, but whatever he was, he wasn't the person he presented himself to be. 

_Close your eyes and spit out three times_ , that was how someone would repel him, a knowledge passed on generation to generation, from elders to their child and then their child bear children who will get to listen to it and so on. _He had eyes of stone persistence, the mouth of two thousand prophets, a charm that even the Devil himself got scared of. With his fingertips he will slice a wound in your shoulder, in your mind, in your heart, and with his rosy tongue he will soothe you down until you got besotted. You have no choice but to fall for him. Bend. Kneel. In your daze, he will throw you out to the cold, cold ocean, leaving you alone to scream with the sea burning your open wounds he left._

The tale was older than the village he came from, which, of course, meant it's even more stupid than the idea of the sun revolving around the earth. He was a man of science. No myth could ever slow him down. 

 

_This is where I will find him._

 

He met someone here. On a night where the stars hide, he saw a man approaching him, walking barefoot, wearing only shorts. It was weird. They weren't two of a half; they were unstability, pulling and pushing, fleeing and crashing, nodding and shaking and rocking. Compulsory but voluntary. Repulsive yet enchanting. A lie with a truth, a truth within a lie. 

And he also lost him here. On a bright sunny day, where the birds sang in their flight. He dove, never to resurface again, and the only thing he left was his trail that dissipated. Hatta got nothing to remember him. 

The cliff was high. Hatta observed; the waves were crashing even harder, the sun refused to go away nor to stay, the sky hesitated to be darker, and the crows that passed by cried out loud. It was a dare. It was an invitation. 

_Are you brave **enough?**_

"Of course," he sneered. "I'll go, and I'll kick your teeth out of jaw. Just wait." 

He didn't give time for a respond; Hatta closed his eyes, engulfed everything his senses could get (the cold breeze that tried to freeze him, the rough edges he stood on, the caws and the crashing and whispering), before he stepped back. He didn't need to gather his courage or decision. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He opened his eyes, 

 

and leapt

 

down

 

to the entwining sea

 

and to Soekarno, who floated there, smiling wide, arms open to an embrace. 


End file.
